


3 Hats, Sunglasses and 1 Pair of Suspenders

by JDSampson



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Discovery phase, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: A series of vignettes as Allen comes to terms with his feelings for Quinn. But are they reciprocated?Slight spoilers for Roswell Episodes in new Season two.
Relationships: J. Allen Hynek/Michael Quinn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	3 Hats, Sunglasses and 1 Pair of Suspenders

PBB: 3 Hats, Sunglasses and 1 Pair of Suspenders

[ _The perfect accessory can make the difference between looking blah and totally to die for_ ](https://www.azquotes.com/quote/877241?ref=accessories) _. --_ [ _Michael Kors_ ](https://www.azquotes.com/author/8222-Michael_Kors)

**Quinn’s Fedora**

“You have a very big head.”

“Which is funny,” Quinn said, putting the too-small hat back on to the rack. “Because you’re the one with the inflated ego.”

Allen ignored the jab, picked up the navy fedora Quinn had just tried on and put it on his own head. A good fit size wise, but not a good fit for his personality. “You’d think with the size of my brain, my head would be larger than yours,” Allen challenged.

Quinn chose another chapeau: brown with a tan band. It wasn’t even close to a fit. He looked like a giant trying on a child’s hat.

“It has nothing to do with brains, Doc.” Quinn put the hat back on the rack. “Head size is more closely related to other body parts. Goes with my big feet and my big—”

Allen nudged him in the ribs to keep him from finishing that sentence because the shopgirl was approaching. She had a lovely, gray fedora with a dark band in her hands.

“This is the largest hat we have in the store in the right now. I was saving it for another customer but if you like it. . . “

Gingerly, Quinn took the hat from her and set it on his head. It slid down to exactly the right spot barely skimming the tops of his slightly elfish ears. “Nice.”

“It’s perfect!” The girl waved for Quinn to step over to the full-length mirror.

“Looks good,” Allen said, stepping up behind Quinn so he was reflected in the mirror, too. “Very you.”

“Very me,” Quinn agreed. He adjusted the hat a little forward then a little back, then fussed with the brim. “Could you?”

“Give it a little more curve?” The shopgirl said, already noting the same issue. “Absolutely. Give me a moment and I’ll have Jorge reshape it for you.” She walked away.

Quinn turned his back to the mirror and leaned in close to Allen. “Dick.” He whispered in Allen’s ear giving him a shiver.

“Excuse me?”

“I like to finish what I start.”

Of course, big head, big feet, big. . . . and where most men thought it was true, in this case it probably was true.

Allen had seen Quinn in just his boxers a few times when they were sharing a motel room on a case. Once or twice, he’d noticed the bulge. Once even when Quinn was wearing his sweatpants. Well that was more of an accidental feel than a visual. At the time, Quinn was teaching him how to defend himself against an attacker. Instead of following the proper steps, Allen got all tangled in himself and his hand landed directly on Quinn’s crotch.

_“That works, too. Hit a guy there and you’ll have no trouble getting away.”_

But Allen didn’t want to get away. Not from Quinn who had his arms wrapped around him in a simulated sneak attack.

_Could we try it once more? Slowly this time so I can get the hang of it?_

“What do you think?” Quinn had a porkpie hat on his head.

“Doesn’t suit you. The gray fedora is perfect.”

Quinn picked up a straw Panama hat from another shelf. “What about you? You need a new hat for the summer. I like this one.”

It wasn’t one Allen would have chosen but he put it on and checked the mirror. Not bad.

The shopgirl came back just then with the gray fedora. “That looks nice on you. A good shape for your face.”

Allen suspected she’d say anything to make a sale but still he agreed. Plus, Quinn liked it.

Quinn tried on his newly shaped hat and declared it perfect. “Ring me up, and put the Panama on my bill, too.”

“I can pay for my own hat,” Allen protested.

“Then it wouldn’t be a gift, would it?”

The girl took both hats off to box them up leaving them alone in the store again.

Quinn stepped closer so they were shoulder to shoulder, a quirky smile on his lips. “Now, whenever I see you in that hat, I’ll know that it’s mine.”

Wait. What?

Quinn laughed slightly and Allen was sure he was messing with him to just to see him blush. Which was happening right now.

“I don’t understand you,” Allen said without really meaning to. “Sometimes, it’s like---” But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that it sounded like you were flirting with me. Like you wanted something from me. Like we were more than just friends.

“Try a little harder,” Quinn whispered then he stepped away to meet the salesgirl at the cash wrap.

They left the store with two new hats for the summer.

“Thank you for the gift,” Allen said as the strolled to the car.

Quinn lit a cigarette, sucked in on it then blew out a line of smoke. “My pleasure.”

Then he smiled that smile and Allen could hear Quinn’s voice in his head. Big head. Big feet. Big. . . . 

Oh god. He was falling hard and fast.

**Allen’s Panama Hat**

Allen fanned himself with his Panama hat as he waited for Quinn to get off the phone on a street corner in Roswell, New Mexico. Quinn was right in front of him, just a yard away inside the glass box and though his head was tipped down, Allen could still see his expression. From that, he knew who Quinn was talking to. Well, not specifically, but he knew it was the woman Quinn had recently begun seeing. Someone who made him grin like a Cheshire cat and blush like a schoolgirl eyeing her first crush.

It should have been funny. Cute. But it wasn’t either of those things. That’s why Allen averted his gaze when he saw Quinn’s lips whispering naughty things into the phone. Allen couldn’t hear, but he could tell and for some reason it set off butterflies in his stomach.

It was silly. Quinn was a healthy, young man with an appetite for the ladies. That was only natural. The fact that, in all the time Allen had known him, Quinn had never given into his urges, was a bit odd. Over a year now, and Allen had never seen Quinn with a woman. Never heard him talk about going out on a date or even hiring a prostitute to handle his needs. Except for that one time with the co-eds in Lubbock but that never panned out.

It was as if flirting was just a cover to make it seem like he was an average, red-blooded American boy, when really. . . .

Quinn stepped out of the booth and Allen stopped fanning himself with his hat.

“You look flushed.” It was partially a joke. Partially a challenge.

“Sunburn.” Quinn said with a cheeky smile. “Not used to this heat.”

Heat. Right.

“Did you get what you needed?”

God no. Not even close.

Oh Captain, my Captain, if only I could really tell you what I really need.

“Is this source like a student or something scouring the library?”

Secrets. They both had them. He didn’t want to tell Quinn about Mimi so why should he be surprised that Quinn didn’t want to talk about his new love?

Because, damn it, Quinn wouldn’t like the idea of Mimi infiltrating the UFO groups. He’d say it was dangerous. That she should stay out of it for her own good. Which was probably true, but she was in it now and Allen suspected that even if he told her to stop it wouldn’t be enough to make her quit.

But why would a man hide his sexual conquests from his best friend and partner? Most men would be bragging about having a woman in their bed. Probably a very bright, very beautiful and talented woman since Quinn was quite the catch.

If he thought about it for another second his heart would burst. So, Allen turned his attention to work. But he did reach out and take hold of Quinn by the upper arm under the pretext of hurrying him along.

That’s all it was, of course. Not the need to feel that muscle under that jacket. And no, that simple touch didn’t feed the need that burned inside of him.

It was damn hot in New Mexico.

And it wasn’t just the weather.

Allen caressed the brim of the Panama hat as they walked down the street toward the TV station. He could hear Quinn’s voice in his head; “Whenever I see you in that hat, I’ll know that it’s mine.”

It or him?

Allen so wanted the later to be true.

Pipe dream. Quinn had a girlfriend. Still, he couldn’t help but dream as he watched that trim, muscular figure of a man walk down the street ahead of him.

Allen took off his hat again and used it as a fan.

It was damn hot in New Mexico.

**Sunglasses**

“New shades,” Quinn said the first time Allen slipped on the Ray-Bans in New Mexico.

“I thought they worked well with the new hat.”

“Very stylish.”

“I thought so.” Allen turned his face toward the sun. Yep, they not only looked good, but they fulfilled their one purpose in life.

“Not as stylish as mine, of course.” Quinn slipped on his aviators and was instantly 20% cooler. Rep, not temp.

Allen adjusted his Ray-Bans and pushed his hat back a fraction. Not as cool as Quinn but 20% less nerdy professor, for sure.

“You should keep those on when you talk to Harding. They’ll hide your tell,” said Quinn.

“My tell?”

“Yeah, you glance slightly left whenever you’re about to lie.”

“I do not. I have an excellent poker face.”

A wide, dimpled smile lit up Quinn’s face. He tipped his head slightly back and slightly angled in that way he had. “Take ‘em off.”

“My sunglasses?”

“No, your pants. Yes, your sunglasses.”

Allen did as he was asked.

“Quiz show time,” Quinn looked directly into Allen’s eyes. “What’s Mimi’s favorite perfume?”

“Chanel No. 5.”

“Truth. What’s your grandfather’s name?”

“Josef. I was named after him.”

“A lie,” Quinn said confidently. “Try again.”

“Anton.”

“Truth.”

Damn.

Quinn moved in so close Allen could hear his heart pounding.

Oh wait, that was his own heart he was hearing.

“Now, the big question. Do you ever lie in bed at night thinking about—”

Oh god, please don’t ask that. Please. Please.

“—punching me?”

“Punching? No!”

“Ah ha!” Quinn backed up. “A lie. You really do want to hit me!”

“Not all the time! Just when you’re especially aggravating like when you’re wasting my time with these silly games.” The rest of the time I want to touch you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Something shifted in Quinn’s expression. It was ever so small, but Allen saw it.

Jesus, could he read his mind in addition to his tell? Allen put the glasses back on.

“Doc. If there’s something you want to say to me, you should feel free to say it. Nothing good comes out of burying your feelings. We’re partners. And partners should be completely honest with each other.”

“Of course. And from now on, if there’s something I want to say to you, I’ll just come right out and say it.”

Underneath the glasses, Allen glanced slightly to the left.

**Quinn’s Dress Uniform Cap**

Newly pressed shirt with starched cuffs held together with polished Air Force cufflinks and a precisely knotted tie. Pants with knife-sharp creases down the front and shoes so shiny you could see your reflection in them. His dress jacket was impeccable – no stains or tears or loose buttons. Every medal and ribbon placed in exactly the right spot after the suit came back from the cleaners.

The dress uniform cap was the final touch. Clean and sharp, not dented in, shiny visor and a polished emblem on the front.

100% Air Force.

100% perfect.

Under the hat, Quinn lifted his head, so his chin was up, chest out, shoulders back. He allowed himself one deep breath then wrapped his gloved fingers around the handle.

Together, he and the other five men lifted the coffin off its stand and began the long, slow process of carrying it up the stairs and down the aisle to the alter in the church.

Quinn was the only one in uniform. Not surprising since it wasn’t a military funeral. It should have been. The Air Force owed it to him for all he’d done for his country. But that wasn’t how these things worked. Once they wrote you off it was over. Like you never existed. All your good works erased from the history books.

The coffin grew heavier with every step.

It wasn’t just the man in the box. This refusal to acknowledge his sacrifice was just one more in a long line of disappointments. The service he had dedicated his life to had turned out to be no better than the enemy he had fought during the war.

Duty. Courage. Honor. Pride.

Secrets. Lies. Treachery. Villainy.

Ten years ago, he believed that the most honorable thing a man could do was follow the orders of his commander. Follow him right into battle, knowing that every man wearing the uniform had your back.

Blue Book changed all of that.

Blue Book had taught him to question orders. To question what was really in the best interest of the public. To question where the line should be drawn and how many deaths were acceptable if in the end it was for the greater good.

The coffin was so heavy, Quinn wasn’t sure he could carry it up the last four steps.

Chin up. Shoulders back. Hat firmly and perfectly balanced on the head.

That was the one thing they couldn’t take away from him: his pride.

Captain Michael Quinn was proud to be an American. Proud to be a solider. Proud to be a friend to a man most had abandoned when he chose to be who he really was inside.

He hoped he’d make a difference. He didn’t. And now he was gone.

Down the aisle. On to the alter.

He could let go. But he didn’t want to. He held on to the handle longer than the other pallbearers. Then he set his free hand on the top of the coffin where he imagined his heart would be.

“I wouldn’t be the man I am today, if it wasn’t for you.” He let go. Snapped to attention and saluted. “Virtute Alisque. Godspeed.”

Quinn executed a sharp ‘about face’ then strode purposefully to the back of the church. He hesitated at the doors for a moment as the minister began to preach. He should stay. Listen. But there would be nothing said that he didn’t already know.

He kept going. Through the doors and out into the cold, overcast day. He pulled his gloves off, finger by finger, stuffed them in his pants pocket even though they ruined the line, then fished out his cigarettes.

It felt wrong, smoking on the church steps while in his uniform best but he couldn’t not. He put the cigarette between his lips and thumbed the wheel on the lighter. It took a few tries for it to ignite and by then his hand was shaking so badly he couldn’t touch the flame to the smoke.

A strong hand curled around his, steadying the lighter while another hand settled at the small of his back. A gentle touch but it meant so much.

Quinn took a long drag on the cigarette as the guiding hand helped him repocket the lighter.

“When I was in high school, this recruiter came to talk us all into joining up. Join the Air Corp and see the world. Learn to fly. Make your mother proud and oh boy, when the girls see you in uniform. He made it sound like going to war was a big adventure. And when you’re a kid from a small factory town it looks so much like the way out. Sure beats 30 hours a week loading boxes into a truck for the rest of your life. So, I joined and six months later I’m freezing my ass off in the back of a B-24 bomber going into battle for the first time. We’re taking heavy fire from the ground and I’m terrified. Wally, he leans up close to me and says, ‘you know what Mikey? I think that recruiter fucking lied to us!’

He was so indignant, I laughed out loud. Here I am, 19 years old and about die in this shot-up bucket of bolts and he and I are laughing our asses off. He kept me sane, I’m telling you. After my first kill – close up, not with a bomb from 30,000 feet, he was there getting me through it. He was always there until I got my wings and he didn’t. Still, he was a good soldier. In spite of what they said, he was a dependable, rock-solid, damn good solider.”

Quinn threw the cigarette butt to the ground but stopped just short of crushing it. Church. He picked it up and tossed it into the ashtray by the door. That close, he could hear the minister calling upon God to forgive him and allow him into heaven.

“I don’t understand,” Allen Hynek said moving close to Quinn once more. “Why didn’t he have a military funeral?”

“Because he was dishonorably discharged.”

“Why?”

Quinn sighed and said softly, “because he was different.” Then he chanced a glance at his new best friend to see what he could see there. Just the slightest change in Hynek’s expression. Like Allen was different, too. If only he could be sure.

Quinn had some serious thinking to do.

**1 Pair of Suspenders**

“What time is it?” Allen yelled from the motel bathroom; the door only partially shut.

Quinn checked his watch. “4:38. We’ve got time to stop for a bite to eat first, if you stop dawdling.”

“I’m not dawdling. I’m dressing.” Allen stepped out of the bathroom and . . .

“That’s what you’re wearing?”

Allen looked down at himself. “It would appear so.”

“We’re going to be on camera. You look like a vagabond.”

And compared to sharp, tailored and fashionable Quinn, it was true. It was the pants. Way too big with suspenders holding them up but not tight to his body.

“Thanks to you, I ripped my good pants. This is all I have with me.” 

Quinn frowned all the way to his eyes. “Have you really lost that much weight? I knew you dropped a few pounds and I’ve noticed that you leave half the food on the plate every time we go out but. . . Doc. That’s not good.”

“It’s fine. I needed to lose a little a weight. I gained too much sitting around the classroom but now that we’re out and about all the time and the scrapes we get into. . . I need to get fit.”

Allen tried to walk past, and Quinn grabbed him by one of the suspenders. “Fit isn’t skinny.”

“I’m fine!” Allen pulled, Quinn resisted, and one of the two suspender buttons popped and flew across the room. “Now look what you’ve done! Seriously, I don’t understand why you insist on manhandled me! And making comments about how I look! We can’t all be a dashing Air Force Captain, can we? Be a very boring world if everyone was as pretty and perfect as you!” He said it with anger, but Quinn couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I am pretty perfect, aren’t I?” He scooped the fleeing button off the floor.

“That’s not what I said.” Allen fussed with the loose suspender strap as if he could use science to find another way to button it.

“Take off your pants.”

“Excuse me?” And then he blushed, which, added to the bluster made Quinn smile even wider.

“Give me your pants.” Quinn went to his duffel bag, dug around and came out with a small tin. “I’ll sew the button back on. It’ll take two minutes.”

“You can do that?”

“Sew a button? Yeah. I can also fly a complex fighter jet. I’m talented. Pants.” Quinn sat down on the bed and watched with even more amusement as Allen struggled to get out of his trousers without falling on his ass.

At one point he had his back to Quinn giving him time to contemplate that ass and what he might like to do with it.

Damn.

But when Allen turned back around, the joy slipped away. For a second, Allen Hynek looked like an old man. Wearing drooping boxers and drooping black socks and a long sleeve shirt that was so baggy it should have made him look larger, but it had the opposite effect. He looked like a man wasting away and that gave Quinn an ache in his stomach and a lump in his throat.

When had this happened? Quinn had seen his partner in various stages of undress before, but he’d never looked like this.

“Allen, what is going on?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Give me my pants!” He made a grab for them, but it was a foolish gesture. He knew better than to try and play keep away with Quinn.

“Just stop it. Sit down and let me fix them.” Quinn selected a matching card of thread, unraveled a length then threaded a needle. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” he said, talking softly as he began to sew. “I need you to be healthy, that’s all. Like you said, we get into some scrapes and I need you at your best.”

Allen sunk on to the opposite bed, his bed which Quinn had made that morning even though that was the maid’s job. Like he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Allen replied even softer than Quinn.

“And that’s keeping you from eating?”

“And sleeping. It’s like I can’t switch my brain off. So many questions and choices.”

“You can always talk to me, you know.” Quinn glanced at him then put his eyes back on the work. “Any time, day or night. You can call me. I don’t mind.”

Allen hesitated, shifting slightly on the bed. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt, now that you have a. . . lady.”

Oh that. “That’s over. It was really more business than pleasure and ever since Wally’s funeral, I’ve been thinking a lot about how and with whom I’d like to spend the rest of my life. Done.” Quinn snapped the thread and returned the needle to the tin. He gave the pants a sharp shake then held them out for Allen to put on.

The doc stepped into them okay, but when he went to refasten the suspenders his hands were shaking, and he got the one twisted in the back.

Quinn got up and moved close. “Let me help you.” He straightened the strap then drew it up over Allen’s shoulder. With long, muscular fingers, he fed the newly sewn button through the hole in the tab. It was an easy reach but still he moved closer. So close he could feel Allen’s breath on his neck as he looked down. He fussed more than he needed to with the second button, not wanting to step away, ordering Allen to do it already with just thoughts in his head.

Cool lips touched the side of his neck.

Finally.

Quinn relished the feeling for a moment and the second he sensed Allen was about to pull back, he turned his head forcing him to break but leaving him open for a kiss. Lips on lips, Quinn’s fingers still roaming around the waistband of Allen’s pants.

It went on longer than Quinn expected and then Allen pulled completely away putting a good two feet of distance between them.

“About time, Doc.”

Allen’s face flushed and looked everywhere but at Quinn. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. Why did you let me go on? You should have stopped me.”

“Doc! About time – you kissed me. I’ve been hinting for months.”

“Hinting?”

“You don’t think you came up with this idea on your own, do you?” Quinn stepped forward but Allen backed up, hit the edge of the bed and ended up sitting.

“You wanted me to do that? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Like what? By the way, my straight and married co-worker, I lay in bed at night dreaming about fucking you?”

Ooh. . . Allen’s face.

“Too much, huh?”

“A little, yes.” Allen sucked in a deep breath. “A lot, yes. The kissing was traumatic enough.”

“Traumatic?” Quinn backed off on that.

“I don’t mean in a bad way,” Allen protested.

“There’s good traumatic?”

“I just mean. .. it’s new and I never. I didn’t. There were moments but then you said Wally was dishonorably discharged for being different – I know how much your wings mean to you. Your service. Even with as disappointed as you’ve been in the Air Force lately, I know that it’s who you are.”

And that was all very sweet and very Allen Hynek.

“It’s Wally that made me realize how stupid I’ve been to keep this to myself. I know who I am, what I am. The uniform doesn’t change that even if the military says it’s not right. But you. . . this is new for you, isn’t it?”

“Very. I’ve never felt like this about another. . . “

Man. God, he couldn’t even say it. There were hurtles, for sure. Lots of them. But none of them were enough to make Quinn want to close the door.

“Doc. Allen. I have done this before, but I still never felt like this. You. . . you wrecked me and I don’t know why.”

Allen’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s a good thing?”

“In a weird way, yes. I feel something with you that I’ve never felt with any other person.”

“Underappreciated?” Allen joked.

“Safe. I feel safe with you. So much so that we’re having this conversation. So safe, that I felt okay to kiss you. But that’s me. If you don’t feel that way. If this isn’t something you can do right now. I understand. I just wanted to make sure you knew where I stood.” Quinn stepped a little closer and again Allen scooted back a little. “I can forget what just happened if you want me to. We can keep working together. We can stop sharing motel rooms if that’s uncomfortable now.”

“It’s not,” Allen said quickly. “I don’t want to forget but I’m not sure—my body’s on your side. My brain—”

“Is complicated, like always. I get it.” Quinn looked down at his watch. “We need to go or we’ll be late for the interview.” He got his uniform coat from the closet and slipped it on. “I’ll let you decide what happens next.”

He was almost to the door when Allen snapped, “hey!”

Ouch. Quinn held still, afraid to turn. Afraid that he’d ruined everything.

“I don’t think that’s fair.”

He turned expecting to see. . . what?

“You may have been hinting for months, but you forced me to make the first move. That wasn’t easy! What if I’d been wrong? What if I had misinterpreted your hints and you were disgusted with me? I could have ruined everything, but I took a chance.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So, no. The next move isn’t up to me. It’s up to us. I know I’ve played that card before and then I didn’t have your back when it counted, but those days are over, Michael. I swear. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this or if I can do everything you’re hoping for. But I really want to try.”

A soft smile crossed Quinn’s lips. “It would have to be the biggest secret we’ve ever kept.”

“We’ve had a lot of practice keeping secrets.” Allen closed the space between them. “You decide.”

Quinn didn’t have to think about it. He wrapped his arms around the man who had been invading his dreams since the day they’d met and kissed him deep and hard and long.

Maybe they could blow off the TV interview? But that was a bad idea. Whatever they did in the room, it would have to be business as usual once they stepped outside. Business as usual at the Blue Book office and any time they were in public. That was going to be hard. They were already used to putting their hands on each other in ways that might have already seemed to personal for two male co-workers.

But there was no other choice. If they were going to do this, they’d have to learn how to compartmentalize their lives. No slip-ups. No extra touches or furtive glances. Then, once the door was closed to the outside world, it would be heaven – for a few hours, a few minutes, even a few seconds. Quinn knew it would be worth it.

He just hoped that Allen would feel the same way, too. They both had a lot to lose and in return for what?

The chance to truly let go in a way that Quinn had never done with anyone in his life. It was exciting. It was scary. It was what Quinn had always hoped for but never believed he’d find: another man who made him feel warm and loved and safe.

“We need to go,” Quinn said softly.

“When we get back. . . “ said Allen.

Quinn slipped his long fingers under Allen’s suspenders and drew them down to where they met the buttons of his pants. “When we get back.”

The End


End file.
